My Experience of Three Worlds

(This is a long pending book started in 2009 that tries to capture my three decades of expereince from three different worlds: personal, professional, and yet to be explored)

Soon the train will be approaching Dehradoon railway station. An unsubtle feeling rattled my mind- the beauty of the new place and the joy of a new assignment were fine, yet the distance from my old- aging- parents was nostalgic -a distance that was amazingly 2000 kms. I saw my village, the vast stretch of paddy fields, the smell of the heat and dust and the loving faces so vivid yet so far. I heard top voices, “be careful, Ninu, don’t tell the truth. Keep your mouth shut” I felt, as if, a powerful top- dog overpowered my natural self. I slowly closed my eyes and almost surrendered to the destiny. The train slowly touched the platform .I could see many porters running towards the train’s compartment. And before the passengers could get down they would enter and try their luck for the day.This was the first train to see the morning light. A porter came and asked me “sahib, can I carry your luggage.” His words disconnected me from the surreal sting of nostalgia. “ Han , kitna lo ge bhai?-yes, how much would you charge, brother” The kaliyugi Indians’ tongues are deceptive- what they say they don’t mean it. So, here brother has no relative meaning. The porter, tuned to the modern times, was also insensitive to this mumbo-jumbo. He never even bothered to smile at me for the status which I ascribed to him. He gave me a nasty gaze and said-“ 30 rupees, sahib” .I smiled at him and of this he was still not very sure of that I was not disapproving his labour cost. “ E raha upper waiting room aur e rahi aapki cheezen,Sahib- ” This is upper class waiting room and here I keep your luggage,Sahib” I looked at the huge size of the room which still had the smell of British Raaj.The British, like the French, had fascination for large/grand size- large windows, large ventilators, large doors, huge arm chairs and so on. I took out a 50 rupees note gave it to the porter . “Bahiya , e lo tumari majduri-brother , this is your money” A smiled changed the entire demeanor of his face, as if, he had this smile after ages .He turned back, as he departed, he smiled at me again with a bowing head and said, “ sahib bahut kam log aap jaise hotehain- very few souls are kind and generous like you” I stretched up on an arm chair. An old clock mounted above the wall chimed .It was 6 o’ clock in the morning. The train reached much before the time. My new institute has been informed about my arrival and some body would be coming to pick me up from the present location. The spring breeze from the highlands of Doon was quite soothing to my tired –train- inertia (ed/) -body .I never knew when I closed my winks. In my sleep, I saw the porter smiling and also heard somebody who constantly saying to me – “tall trees are easy to be chopped; truth can not be told; the moment you tell the truth it becomes untruth….” “Sir , Aap ki gadi aa gai hai- sir,the car has come come to pick you up to IMD “ to be Contd. Soon the train will be approaching Dehradoon railway station. An unsubtle feeling rattled my mind- the beauty of the new place and the joy of a new assignment were fine, yet the distance from my old- aging- parents was nostalgic -a distance that was amazingly 2000 kms. I saw my village, the vast stretch of paddy fields, the smell of the heat and dust and the loving faces so vivid yet so far. I heard top voices, “be careful, Ninu, don’t tell the truth. Keep your mouth shut” I felt, as if, a powerful top- dog overpowered my natural self. I slowly closed my eyes and almost surrendered to the destiny. The train slowly touched the platform .I could see many porters running towards the train’s compartment. And before the passengers could get down they would enter and try their luck for the day.This was the first train to see the morning light. A porter came and asked me “sahib, can I carry your luggage.” His words disconnected me from the surreal sting of nostalgia. “ Han , kitna lo ge bhai?-yes, how much would you charge, brother” The kaliyugi Indians’ tongues are deceptive- what they say they don’t mean it. So, here brother has no relative meaning. The porter, tuned to the modern times, was also insensitive to this mumbo-jumbo. He never even bothered to smile at me for the status which I ascribed to him. He gave me a nasty gaze and said-“ 30 rupees, sahib” .I smiled at him and of this he was still not very sure of that I was not disapproving his labour cost. “ E raha upper waiting room aur e rahi aapki cheezen,Sahib- ” This is upper class waiting room and here I keep your luggage,Sahib” I looked at the huge size of the room which still had the smell of British Raaj.The British, like the French, had fascination for large/grand size- large windows, large ventilators, large doors, huge arm chairs and so on. I took out a 50 rupees note gave it to the porter . “Bahiya , e lo tumari majduri-brother , this is your money” A smiled changed the entire demeanor of his face, as if, he had this smile after ages .He turned back, as he departed, he smiled at me again with a bowing head and said, “ sahib bahut kam log aap jaise hotehain- very few souls are kind and generous like you” I stretched up on an arm chair. An old clock mounted above the wall chimed .It was 6 o’ clock in the morning. The train reached much before the time. My new institute has been informed about my arrival and some body would be coming to pick me up from the present location. The spring breeze from the highlands of Doon was quite soothing to my tired –train- inertia (ed/) -body .I never knew when I closed my winks. In my sleep, I saw the porter smiling and also heard somebody who constantly saying to me – “tall trees are easy to be chopped; truth can not be told; the moment you tell the truth it becomes untruth….” “Sir , Aap ki gadi aa gai hai- sir,the car has come come to pick you up to IMD “ to be Contd. 2009 https://lnkd.in/gHquDnWt